The Mediterranean Inn

Well, it’s my last day as a monthly resident at this hotel. During the seven years since I checked in for my first long visit, it’s proven to be a fairly good place to stay. The location was perfect: two blocks to my private mailbox; a short bus ride to my storage unit; and during the end of my career at Airborne Express (when it was taken over by DHL), but a seven minute commute — on foot. The monthly rates have been reasonable, and the flexibility invaluable. When my parents began needing help, or I was ready for another overseas excursion, all I had to do check out and head to the airport. It was a perfect fit for my nomadic lifestyle.

It’s therefore fitting that the preparations for my upcoming Final Odyssey took place here. The previous six months have in fact been some of the busiest and most demanding of my stays at the Mediterranean because of some health problems I’ve tried to tackle and the details of the move to Thailand. Nevertheless, I hope I’ll someday look back at this place and time with a degree of nostalgia.

Mr. Sol has been fighting a losing battle this week. His appearances have become less frequent as the Rainy Season gathers strength. I have never been enamored with the gloomy Seattle fall afternoons, but knowing I’ll soon be making my escape gives me a perverse kind of pleasure this time around. It’s like I’m giving Mother Nature the middle finger.